Pop Goes the Weasel
by aspookah
Summary: The Mummy" told from the P.O.V. of our favorite weasel... rating is for language. Chapter 3 now UP! I.Hate.My job. "He said: Come with me my princess. It is time to make you mine... forever." "For all eternity, idiot." Yeah? Yo momma.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: *sigh* I don't own the characters from "The Mummy" yada, yada, yada... Happy? Good, because now I'm depressed.  
  
Pop Goes the Weasel  
  
"The Mummy" told form the point of view of Beni Gabor  
  
chapter 1  
  
Hammunaptra. The damn city shoulda stayed lost. That's really where this began.  
  
The French Foreign Legion is total bullshit, let's get that straight right now. We had no purpose to be in that Godforsaken desert. Nope, we were there because some smart ass American named O'Connell suggested taking a little field trip. And I thought field trips were supposed to be -educational-... Right.  
  
I should also get this out: I am not a coward, I am not a wimp, I just do not like pain. I don't like being shot at, I don't like being kicked, and I really don't like being thrown against walls. O'Connell helped me to understand that last one...  
  
Anyway, if you saw a couple thousand Tauregs coming at you on horseback and firing their guns every which way, you woulda run, too. You'd swear I was racing a cheetah... C'mon, even the general took off.  
  
So, you know, O'Connell's barking orders to the rest of those poor idiots and I hear gun shots behind me.  
  
What'd I do to deserve this? I just -borrowed- a few trinkets from a synagogue, a couple crosses from a church, impersonated a monk,... Oh, yeah...  
  
So, it seems the rest of the garrison was a bit slower at realizing danger, but as soon as bullets started pinging around them, they started to haul ass. They were dumb enough to trust a bastard like O'Connell, they deserved what they got. I wasn't there by choice...  
  
"Run, Beni! Run!"  
  
No, I think I'll stay and try to reason with the trigger-happy bastards... Friggin' idiot.  
  
I saw this tomb thing, with some Egyptian picture-writing stuff on it, highongrass, or is it pyrogeeks... something like that. Anyway, it had a door, so I figured it was a helluva good hiding place. Yeah, O'Connell was a few feet behind me, chased by the desert rats.  
  
Sure, I coulda helped him, coulda let him in. I also coulda started singing "Yankee Doodle" in Arabic...  
  
As soon as I shut the stone door (and it was damn well heavy), I regretted it. I also don't like snakes...  
  
But I waited it out, and when I popped my head out, well, the whole garrison was 6 feet under... It seemed, though, that something had scared the Tauregs off. O'Connell was no where in sight.  
  
Of course, I didn't bother looking for his body. Unfortunately, that lucky bastard gets out of everything...  
  
***  
  
What did I do for three years? Not much of anything (and if you care, the list of -who- I did, well, let's just say... let's not say anything...).  
  
I was a weasel, really. I led people out into the middle of the desert to die. They didn't -know- they were going to die, mind you. I told the intelligently-challenged that I knew where Hammunaptra was, which was not a lie, and that I'd take them there. That was the part where I lied.  
  
So, anyway, these three cowboys with their American-tinted English came to me, heard of me through the grapevine... Actually, I was at a bar and some guys pointed me out to them.  
  
"We hear you know where to find a certain... Hammunaptra..."  
  
And they wanted me to show them the way... Right... How much were they paying? Enough, but, guess what: there's -always- a catch...  
  
On normal terms, I would never have agreed to being paid half up-front and half upon return. Of course, having a gun to my head my have stimulated me to agree...  
  
They weren't as dumb as they'd seemed, I'll give 'em that. They hired some Chamberlain fellow, an Egyptologist or whatever. Just cus he's got some fancy title, they thought he was so smart. He had this bright idea to hire a bunch of native diggers, which I thought was a totally idiotic idea. We were going into Hammunaptra, a -city-, not digging holes in the sand.  
  
So we were all packed, boarding the barge, the "Sudan", all set to go. Damn Americans were doing all this the hard way, making me go the whole trip to get paid. That was the blondie one's big idea, to make sure I didn't weasel out on them. Yeah, I never learned the Americans' names; makes me feel better when they die...  
  
Yeah, so we were standing on the bow of the barge, the Americans and I, and that Chamberlain guy said everything was in order. The one cowboy, the tall one with glasses, was the only polite one of the three. Unfortunately, I have not had very good relationships with Americans, obviously, and that's too bad because I seem to have a stereotype about all Americans...  
  
Anyway, as the imbeciles were discussing the Lost City, that's when I saw him. O'Connell.  
  
Oh. Shit.  
  
I never expected to see the bastard alive. So I did what I do best.  
  
I ran.  
  
***  
  
That night, I turned down a game of cards for a stroll around the deck. Okay, so the American assholes would rather play with some drunken nitwit Brit... Well, I just so happened to come upon O'Connell with a lady friend. Okay, fine, I wanted to know what the hell he was doing there. Anyway, the little half-wit (okay, very large half-wit) pissed her off something awful and he was completely dumbfounded.  
  
What a dumb ass.  
  
Well, I laughed a little too loud and caught O'Dummy's attention. Incredibly stupid on my part...  
  
So he grabbed me and I was hanging about two feet off the ground, not the most comfortable position if I may say.  
  
"Well, if it ain't my little buddy, Beni."  
  
No, it's the friggin' Easter Bunny.  
  
"I think I'll kill you."  
  
"Think of my children!"  
  
Yeah, ya big bully! Think of poor Gabriel, Joshua, and Beni, Jr.!  
  
"You don't have any children..."  
  
Oh, yeah, forgot about that...  
  
"Someday I might."  
  
I a very undeserved "shut-up" for a reply.  
  
I think I'll now refer to him as the -rude-, -impatient- bastard...  
  
So then he went on about how I was leading the Americans, yada, yada, yada Like there was anyone else alive who knew where the damn city was. He's so dumb, I almost feel sorry for him.  
  
Almost.  
  
Then I found out why O'Connell was going back to Hammunaptra: for that stuck-up lady friend of his. I still couldn't understand -why- he was going; the girl was such a prude, she shoulda been a librarian.  
  
"You always did have more balls than brains."  
  
Leave it to me to open my big mouth. I couldn't resist... It -was- true...  
  
You wanna know something else that's true? The river is fucking cold at night.  
  
***  
  
I had a helluva time getting back on the barge. I think the fish had a field day with my toes... Eventually, though, I climbed up a line. And guess what. Some tattooed bastards dressed in black set the goddam barge on fire. Not to mention there were bullets flying past my ears. By then, people were jumping into the water.  
  
What the hell, I was already wet.  
  
But I was -pissed off-.  
  
So I splashed back in the friggin' -cold- water and swam to the shore where my team of imbecile Americans were headed. Well, at least the diggers had enough sense to get all the horses...  
  
I saw O'Connell on the opposite shore with that drunken Brit, some guy who looked like he lived in prison, and his prude girlfriend (who won the wet nighty contest...).  
  
"O'Connell!"  
  
I couldn't resist.  
  
"Hey! O'Connell!"  
  
Yeah, he's half-deaf, too...  
  
"It looks to me like I've got all the horses!"  
  
Ha ha! One up on Mr. Dumdum!  
  
"Hey, Beni!"  
  
What the hell could he possibly want?  
  
"Looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the river!"  
  
No friggin' way.  
  
Aw, shit.  
  
***  
  
Okay, so we were delayed slightly. But we had faster transportation: horses. Fortunately, there was a horse for everybody in the group, except for one person.  
  
Unfortunately, I was that one person. I got stuck with a friggin' camel.  
  
Keeping company with those dumb asses was no picnic either. All they ever talked about was how much Egypt sucked, and my accent...  
  
The big bullies...  
  
Well, we met up with O'Connell's team just before sunrise. Apparently, Mr. Cocky had made a bet with the Three Stooges for 500 bucks. Well, I'd get 100 bucks if I helped 'em win. Whoever got there first...  
  
Good thing camels kick ass at racing.  
  
Bad thing that O'Connell's teammates were all on camels, too.  
  
That friggin' figures...  
  
Yeah, guess who won. The goddam prude.  
  
What happened to me? Being thrown off my stubborn ass camel and almost trampled by horses is not a great way to relax...  
  
***  
  
Those bastard Americans wanted me to pitch in to pay O'Connell... Hell, no. I told them to kiss my ass... Well, I said that under my breath after I'd forked over 100 bucks. The pricks held a gun to my head again.  
  
"Hey."  
  
It was that dumb blondie guy again. I was just sitting on some big stone, and he comes to me with an attitude.  
  
"Get your little Hungarian ass helpin' to open that tomb thing."  
  
He expected me to work with those damn diggers to a bricked up entrance. Was he outta his pea-sized mind?  
  
"That's why you hired diggers." I really gotta learn to keep my mouth shut. You know what the bastard did? He shot at me! He missed, but the prick shot at me!  
  
I was quite cooperative after that. I was still pissed off, but the idea of getting shot did not appeal to me...  
  
***  
  
Finally, the entry was opened. Believe me, that place is not for claustrophobics. The whole place was very closed-in, dark, pretty creepy. Chamberlain was looking for some statue's base or something, I really didn't care. So Dr. Egypt found his precious base, and with it some really weird noises.. A voice it sounded like, and it put everyone on edge. Then something rounded the corner. Everyone who had a gun held it in front of him. Damn coward Chamberlain cowered behind us.  
  
"O'Connell, you scared the bejesus outta us."  
  
Damn right he did. What the hell was he playing at?  
  
"Well, gentlemen, we have a lot of work to be getting along with."  
  
Dumb bitch, that was out site.  
  
"Push off, this is our dig site."  
  
Is there an echo in here? Yeah, well the guns went up again. I couldn't resist taunting him. I needed some fun.  
  
"Well, there's only four of you, and fifteen of me; your odds are not so great O'Connell."  
  
I'm good at judging odds... I should play the lottery...  
  
Yeah, he pointed his shiny gun at me, but if I went, I was damn well taking him with me...  
  
"Now, let's be nice, children."  
  
Aw, speak for the bouncer next to you; he's the one that started this feud by being a smart ass.  
  
"There are other places to dig."  
  
Yeah, listen to the lady. Good doggie, O'Connell, good doggie-woggie!  
  
Apparently that drunken nitwit was the prude's brother. Damn, they must've had one dysfunctional family. The ne'er-do-well almost made me burst out in fits of laughter with his pee-wee gun. Not to mention, it was pointed at the back of O'Connell's head.  
  
***  
  
So we got the statue. Great. Whoopdee-do for us.  
  
Chamberlain found the seam where some secret compartment was hidden. The blondie American got all keen about finding the treasure. Funny, I couldn't understand how all the wealth of Egypt could fit into a tiny compartment. That's what Hammunaptra is supposed to hold, right? The wealth of Egypt...  
  
So Blondie took a crow bar and was ready to pry the compartment open, but Mr. Picky Chamberlain suggested letting the diggers open it...  
  
Okay, so maybe the diggers were a good idea; the damn compartment was rigged with some sorta ancient booby trap. Just our luck.  
  
The three diggers were, well,... melted.  
  
Better them than me.  
  
After that, they called it quits for the night. It was already dark, and I'm glad the imbeciles had enough sense to start a fire. I do not, however, want to know what our meal consisted of.  
  
Alright, I woulda really like to know who the hell those desert guys were, you know, the Goth bikers dressed all in black with a bunch of tattoos... Yeah them. They showed up again that night, came over riding on horses, shooting their guns and wielding swords... Actually, the curvy swords were pretty cool...  
  
And the mighty O'Connell scared them off with a stick of dynamite... And they say -I'm- a wuss... Of course, the biker boys weren't chased off before I took a swig of Glen Livet from the nitwit Brit, not my preferred drink, but hey, I was in the middle of the friggin' desert; I couldn't be too picky.  
  
Right, so you can imagine after the long day that I'd like to get some sleep. Guess what - I was up -all damn night-. Sure, I'm an insomniac, but O'Connell, the rat-bastard, gets that prude, Evelyn, completely shit- faced drunk, and she decides to expose her entire life story and ancestral history at the top of her lungs. And get this: she's proud to be a librarian...  
  
***  
  
That bastard Chamberlain always had to be in a rush to do everything; he got us all down there before sunrise to open the damn chest. Yeah, great, everyone thought there'd be some great treasure just waiting to be found. Ha.  
  
"There is a curse upon this chest."  
  
Say what? Nope, I don't do curses...  
  
"Curse, my ass."  
  
Did he just say he wanted someone to curse his ass? ...Oh... never mind.  
  
"It says 'There is one, the undead, who, if brought back to life, will kill all who open this chest."  
  
Oh, shit.  
  
That was it for me. Forget that crap, I don't deal with curses, nuh-uh, nope. I hauled my ass outta there real fast...  
  
"Stupid superstitious bastard."  
  
Oh, yeah? Let's just see if he feels that way when his organs are sucked outta him...  
  
Yeah, and after all that, they still opened it.  
  
Stupid, idiotic bastards. I'm just glad Chamberlain could read those heartheclicks to warn me to get the hell outta there. They were still dumb.  
  
***  
  
Afterwards, I really started to regret my decision, and resent my chicken heart. Dr. Egypt and the Three Stooges came back completely healthy and very alive, each with a jar... very decorated and elaborate jars that would fetch a very fine price... The good doctor also returned with a large (very heavy) black book.  
  
To top that off, I had to give up a comfy seat by the fire to that prude bitch or O'Connell was going to knock my teeth out.  
  
Damn him, damn that man!  
  
Okay, I need to get this out: that librarian was so friggin' annoying, her know-it-all attitude and stuck-up British air.  
  
Big deal. Her team found a gooey mummy with scarab skeletons in it coffin.  
  
"It seems our friend was a victim of the Hom-dai, the worst of all ancient curses."  
  
Bet she didn't learn that in the kitchen...  
  
Okay, so if somebody's dumb enough to wake this guy up after 3,000 years, the 10 Plagues of Egypt are a free gift. Was it really necessary to explain all 10 Plagues (in detail) to a half-asleep audience? Apparently for her, it was.  
  
Finally, after how long, I fell asleep. God, it felt so good to sleep, so peaceful, so blissful.  
  
That bitch was out to ruin my life.  
  
For someone so smart, how could she be so stupid? How could she be stupid enough to read that book. C'mon, she knew the consequences; she the one that explained them, for God's sake!  
  
Well, that didn't stop her... obviously.  
  
This whole curse thing got off to the wrong start. Okay, the first plague that popped up was locusts. That was totally out of order; locusts were the -8th- Plague! I may not know very much, but I know my Plagues...  
  
***  
  
So, anyhow, our team got separated from O'Connell's and the incompetent Americans opted for running into the tomb. Yeah, great idea. Of course, Chamberlain, with all his smarts and degrees in every field, was dumb enough to stay out there and get covered with bugs.  
  
We, however, were running through the damn narrow corridors with absolutely no clue as to where we were going. One of the Americans, the tall, somewhat polite one, tripped and fell, and dropped both his glasses and his torch.  
  
Klutz.  
  
I really didn't mean to mutilate his glasses - I didn't see them... I was just, you know, caught up in the moment, afraid for my life and such.  
  
Odd how "caught up in the moment" is usually used as an excuse for why your girlfriend slept with your brother...  
  
Yeah, I took the guy's torch, too...  
  
***  
  
I must've taken a wrong turn cus I couldn't find my team anywhere. But I dealt with it, I played it cool.  
  
Okay, I was petrified stiff as a board.  
  
But I only whimpered because nobody was around to hear...  
  
So I wound up at the statue base where we found that cursed chest. I really had the shivers. Somehow I was going to find a way to blame everything on O'Connell...  
  
That chest was still in the room, opened, and there was a jar like the Americans had, but it was broken. I figured that, from there, I could find my way out, but I always felt that someone was behind me, and I had my gun out.  
  
A helluva lotta good it did me.  
  
The only light came from my - excuse me - the American's torch. I turned around again and-  
  
Ho. Ly. Shit.  
  
Smart me, I dropped the torch and the gun.  
  
Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't do anything ...except maybe pray. A lot.  
  
And that's what I did. I worked my way through my religious charms. Christianity, Islam, Buddhism... You can never have too many saviors...  
  
Well, I shoulda just gone with my own faith to begin with, saved myself a scare, since Hebrew seemed to do the trick. Always trust your instincts...  
  
Of course, my instincts were yelling, "Run, get the hell outta there, you dumb fuck!"  
  
But he offered pretty trinkets (and allowed me to live...), a helluva lot more than what I was getting paid by those American dumb asses.  
  
Cheap bastards.  
  
That sold me, gold and immunity. That was one damn good deal!  
  
Oh, like you woulda turned an evil, pissed off, walking, talking, gooey, skeletal corpse down. Yeah, I'd love to see that...  
  
*** 


	2. Chapter Two

Pop Goes the Weasel

Chapter II

Sand SUCKS. I hate sand. Sand gets stuck everywhere... And I mean _everywhere_. That apparently is the preferred choice of transformation for ancient, undead mummies, from my personal experience at least. It got us back to Cairo, anyway. Sand does not do wonders for men... It's like cold water... but... itchy.

I, however, am never going to a beach again.

Anyway, aside from the transportation, the ride was great. Wonderful view of Egypt; they should do that for all the tourists...

So, we get back to Cairo. Whoopee... Imhotep begs me to help get back those jars from the Americans, sounding like a kid wanting a new toy... All right, I assumed this guy didn't hear "No" too often.

So we mosey along over to the hotel. The American with the glasses was first on the shopping list.

Of course he no longer had glasses, as I remember having a certain accident that squished them into oblivion... Well, apparently he didn't need them anymore for the simple reason that his eyeballs were MIA...

Well, it made _me_ feel better about it, anyway.

Now, what the hell was this guy's name... Bunny, Buns, _Burns_, that was it!

"Mr. Burns, Prince Imhotep thanks you for your hospitality..."

Yes, how kind you were. Wait, when the hell did this guy become a _prince_???

"...And for your eyes, and for your tongue..."

Oh, yeah, those, too. Come in real handy, they do...

"But, I'm afraid more is needed."

Afraid? Fuck that, I could care less.

Oh, well, better him than me, I guess. At least ol' Bag-o-bones put him out of his misery... I guess you never _really_ know someone until you see 'em eat. It did wonders in cleansing my stomach--I don't even remember eating peas...

I wasn't scared, of course I wasn't scared, not after seeing Imhotep suck the flesh off a guy like a Hoover vacuum. I... just decided to take a stroll.

"Beni!"

Shit.

Damn O'Connell, damn him, damn that man!

"Where've you been?"

Up your--None of your damn business.

Call me crazy, but I think Imhotep was singing. He let out this roaring scream rookie opera star thing and I slipped out from Dumdum's greasy fingers.

Basically, I just hung around Cairo while Imhotep did... stuff. I didn't know what the hell he was doing; he could've been getting laid for all I knew, or cared. God knows after 3,000 years, he sure as hell needed it.

I was indoors, of course, as I'm not too fond of the rain.

At least not when it's raining fire.

You know, whole ten plagues of Egypt thing. Yeah,that. Couldn't even get a damn drink since the undead bastard turned everything to blood. Damn it! I couldn't even get drunk. At least I'm not one of those retards who goes around telling everyone that they're high 'on life'. Right. That is sooooooo code for crack...

That air force fella was a hoot to watch, though, so shit-faced he was running into walls.

I didn't have a problem finding old Imy when I got sick of hanging around: just follow the screams... He sent me to look for that heavy ass black book the Egyptologist bastard made off with. Piece of cake. Start with the office, no problem. After all, what idiot would be carrying a fifty-pound book around Cairo?

That idiot would. For someone so smart, he was a fucking retard.

I hope his goddam arms would fall off.

So I pick through his office, turning drawers over, hoping I could find something worth my time. And then the door creaked open.

"Lemme guess: spring cleaning?"

Son of a bitch.

Everyone knows that Me plus O'Connell = pain for me

Screw that, I ran straight for the window.

Dumb ass threw a chair at me! A friggin' _chair_, for God's sake!

And it hurt like hell.

Before I even could pull myself up from the floor, the bastard marches right up behind me.

"Aw, Beni, did you fall down?"

No, dumb ass, I decided it was time for my midday siesta.

"Here, lemme help you up."

Up? Up your ass, O'Connell. Shove it.

Remind me to go back later and set fire to Chamberlain's goddam bookshelves. I think they gave me scoliosis.

"You came back from the desert with a new friend, didn't you, Beni?"

Please, even a guy as attractive as I am is going to have some problems meeting people in the middle of the godforsaken desert...

"What friend; you are my only friend!"

Damn Chamberlain. Damn Chamberlain and every hard, painful object on top of his freakin' desk.

"Whatcha doin' with this creep, huh, Beni? What's in it for you?"

Oh. _That_ friend.

Well, let's see, the fact that _I'm not gonna die_ kinda won me over, yeah.

"It is better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path..."

Did I mention I was a philosophy major? I didn't think so. Damn I'm good.

"As long as I serve him, I am immune."

Ha. Top that. Try to come up with one of your oh-so-witty comebacks. And 'Yo Momma' doesn't count.

"Immune from what?"

C'mon, genius, it's not rocket science. Then again, you have trouble counting to twenty...

"Piszkas allat."

Hell, that's what. Your birthplace. Bastard.

"What did you say?"

If you got this damn piece of paper off my head, I just might tell you... Or not.

"I don't wanna tell you; you'll just hurt me some more."

And we've already established that I don't like pain. So kiss my--

"What are you looking for? And _try_ not to lie to me..."

Lie is such a negative word... AAEEEHHH!

"The book! The black book they found at Hammunaptra, he wants it back! He says it will be worth its weight in gold!"

And if you haven't noticed, that is one damn heavy book.

Good, dummy, take my head away from the fan...

The boozer, the librarian's brother was there too? Dude, where the hell did he come from?

"What does he want the book for?"

"Oh, come on, how am I sup---"

Like I'd tell your sorry ass. Nothing could make me te--

Okay, again, fan near face, ehhhh... I am personally going to kill whoever invented the ceiling fan. Whoever the bastard was, he deserves to be shot. Several times. And thrown down the stairs.

"Something about bringing his dead girlfriend back to life..."

It's really none of your business; this isn't Jerry Springer.

"But that's all he wants, I swear! Just the book, I swear!"

Oh, yeah—

"And your sister--but other than that..."

What's the matter, O'Connell, afraid of a little competition?

Screams were a dead giveaway as to Imy's location. So while O'Connell and the British drunk were contemplating, I hightail it straight out the window.

What I wouldn't give for a body cast...


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own Beni... Only his heart ::smirk:: JK

POP GOES THE WEASEL

Chapter III

I have added high windows to the list of things I hate. Just so we're clear.

So, it seemed Imhotep was getting along pretty well without me. He had found the black book by himself and got two more jars, and had two more meals. That dude has a good appetite...

How many people have friends that they're afraid of? I don't mean afraid that they're gonna judge you or spread rumors about you, I mean you're scared they're gonna kill you...

Exactly.

Did I feel bad that people died? Yes, I am sympathetic. I told you, I am not a bad, evil, slimy little weasel. Weasel, yes. Evil, no. And I smell good, too.

Did I feel bad that the Americans and that smart-ass Egyptologist got the flesh sucked off their bones?

_Hell_ no.

That's like being upset over the extinction of collie flour... Ick.

So we had one damned American left to rid the world of. Bastard. Too bad it wasn't two...

I felt a little awkward walking down the street with Imhotep. Sure, there was the fact that he was an undead ancient Egyptian high priest trying to resurrect his old girlfriend, but his little minions really crept me out. Yeah, sure, the boils and sores were gross and all...

But I felt unloved.

Before, it was just him and me! What change, Imy? What, I'm not good enough for you now?

Those twits couldn't even carry on a decent conversation... Believe me, I tried.

"So, what's you're name?"

"Im-ho-tep."

"Funny, I didn't realize that was such a popular name... Where ya from?"

"Im-ho-tep."

"Named after your hometown. Cool. Like Winona. So what do you do?"

"Im-ho-tep."

"Really? I didn't know that was a profession... Any kids?"

"Im-ho-tep."

"Your creativity never ceases to amaze..."

I was pretty quiet after that. Not to mention that I now really hated Imhotep's name... Friggin' idiot.

All right, when O'Connell was taking off with his posse, I could have simply allowed him to go. I could have forgiven him for manhandling me on countless occasions. I also could have shot him in the ass.

Did I?

No. But I should have.

With an elephant gun.

Instead I opted for yelling up at Imhotep, who I'm sure screamed some dirty ancient Egyptian words at them through the window.

"You're gonna get yours, Beni!" O'Connell yelled. "You're gonna get yours!"

Yeah. Sure. Go to hell.

"Yeah, like I've never heard _that_ before!" Remember who you're talking to, buddy!

And they drove off, the British boozer maneuvering the car.

Jesus Christ. Who the fuck gave him a license?

Scary thing is, if he survives after this, the only job he'll probably be able to land is a cab driver...

Okay, I admit, the mob of scabby zombie dudes did come in useful. They chased down the car, getting shot and punched and kicked... and run over... At least I didn't have to do it. I'm still icing my nipple from when O'Dumbass threw me around Chamberlain's office...

Eventually, the remaining American was pulled out of the car, and cornered by Imy and his gooey mob.

You know what the bastard does? He pulled out that goddam jar. Like that wasn't gonna piss Imhotep off.

And I thought he was the smart one.

Relatively speaking, that is.

I am never taking Imhotep to lunch. Blah. Then again, I suppose I just did...

Finally some of those moronic chanting bastards chased down O'Connell and Company. Hopping out of the car, Dumdum tries scaring away the minions with fire. Ha. Dipshit.

At least I didn't get bored. I got to play translator. 'Cause I'm a linguist. 'Cause I'm smart.

"He said: Come with me my princess. It is time to make you mine... _forever_."

"For all eternity, idiot." Yeah? Yo momma.

Well, ya know, Imhotep's Hebrew sucks **_ASS_**, so... He should stick to what he's good at---singing.

Can't you just picture him as the Phantom of the Opera?

"Take my hand and I will spare your friends." Ha. Right. Good one, Imy.

He better not be serious.

"Oh... dear. Have you got any bright ideas?" the prude said to O'Connell.

Don't make me laugh. Dumb fuck.

"I'm thinkin', I'm thinkin'," he told her.

I'm sure you are. Thinkin' about fu---

"Well, you'd better think fast, because if he turns me into a mummy, you're the first one I'm coming after..."

Good. Beat the crap out of him.

And she took Imy's hand. O'Connell was pissed, but can you really blame her for not choosing him? Please... Self-centered, immature dipshit ::vs:: good-looking, romantic... dead guy...

Okay, that friggin' mob moved aside for Imy and his sacrifice. Why the hell couldn't they see that I was the number one accomplice! Hello! Me, coming through! OW! Stop stepping on me!

I. Hate. My job.

And sand. We've already established the sand factor. It doesn't exactly taste like sugar, either.

And that bitch.

"Get off me! Get off!" She was hitting me. Just 'cause I was thrash out of the damn sand storm so brutally and landed on you... Yeesh.

Not to mention, you weren't complaining when we---oh, that wasn't you, was it...

Damn it, we were back at Hammunaptra. I hate that place. Why couldn't O'Connell just have gotten shot there three years ago? Then we wouldn't be in this goddam mess.

See, I knew it was all his fault.

It's _always_ his fault.

Apparently, O'Connell's not the friggin' retard I take him for. He _did_ make it to Hammunaptra. Then again, he comes there in that drunken air force guys bright yellow plane. C'mon, who has a yellow plane? How bright (not a pun) is that? It's not like the damn thing was camouflaged or anything...

Imhotep is good. He did this whole thing with making his face out of sand.

I used to do that at the beach, but his just looked so much cooler.

And sand-Imy swallowed O'Connell's plane! Ha. Tastes like chicken.

That bitch ruins everything. She kissed Imhotep, her first kiss probably, to save Mr. DumDum.

He still crashed.

But it was amusing.

"I love the whole sand wall trick," I told my buddy. "It was beautiful... Bastard."

Yes, I was kissing Imhotep's ancient, undead ass. He probably had no idea what the hell I was saying. I could have just yelled, "I fucked your wife!" in Hungarian and he wouldn't have known.

Of course, last time I yelled that, I couldn't move for a week...


End file.
